


Happy Day

by trinsghost



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Derry (Stephen King), Fluff, pennywise - Freeform, sfw, valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22721812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinsghost/pseuds/trinsghost
Summary: This story is a one shot written for a Valentines Day event amongst a group of Stephen King fans (most of us being BIG fans of Pennywise).  For vixen's clussy, I hope you enjoy it and have a great day.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Happy Day

Happy Day

It was a few days before Valentine’s Day, one of the weirdest weeks I’ve seen to date.

I’ve only been in this quiet little town since November, but since then I’d seen nothing but frigid, cold weather and equally chilly attitudes from many of the townsfolk. Though not just towards me; everyone seemed to have a sneer or a cold word to mutter under their breath to one another.

Everyone but my boss at the local library, that is.

Sure, she could be stern and straight faced at times, but Mrs. Grissom was a spitfire with a kind heart – a woman who probably lived a very interesting life, if her anecdotes and jokes were anything to go by.

Monday rolled around and the greyish-white clouds that seemed to encapsulate Derry lifted, and along with them the never-ending layers of snow we seemed to get every week simply..stopped. Sun soaked landscapes soon bore the brilliant green of grass, trees and delicately beautiful flowers waking from their winter sleep.

‘But it’s too early. Spring shouldn’t happen for another two or three months,’ I whispered, looking out the window on a Wednesday afternoon.

“It happens every so often. We get it every few decades and it lasts for a couple of years. I just roll with it,” she shrugged, giggling under her breath as she caught my raised eyebrow.

“You know what? Since Friday is a holiday, take the day off. I think you’ll enjoy it,” she gave me a hard stare til the edges started to crack, baring the hint of a smile.

“That’s..Valentines Day though. I haven’t got anyon,” I reasoned.

“Doesn’t matter,” she cut me off gently. “The town perks up around then, holds little events here and there. You’ve been working so much, you barely had a day off between handling weekday activities here and your archivist work on the weekends.”

I couldn’t argue with that. Besides helping her and two other librarians on weekdays, I’d been doing cataloging and preservation work in their attic on local historical documents recently discovered in a nearby home.

Friday morning rolled around, and I decided to head to the popular coffee shop for a drink after breakfast. My apartment was nearby, and the weather was still so pleasant that I decided a leisurely stroll into town would be perfect.

Heading into the coffee shop, I put in an order for an iced coffee, smiling at the woman behind the bar as she moved with precision, assembling several drinks at the same time. My gaze drifted to a assembly of objects near the register – origami critters, flowers and boats in brilliant colors were laid out, along with a small sign noting to “Take One”.

“Go ahead,” the woman saw me looking and grinned. “One for each customer today,” she wiped her hands on a towel draped from her apron.  
I scanned the folded paper creations and found one that caught my eye – a pink boat with tiny red hearts drawn at the bow. I saw a Sharpie at the register and added my initials to one side.

Waving my goodbye to the workers in the coffee shop, I made my way down and then up the other side of the main street, noticing everyone was in a jovial mood. And giving out more freebies in the stores, though I wasn’t sure the action was entirely due to the holiday.

The tourist/candy shop handed me a small box of candy conversation hearts, apparently custom made for the town. Not having seen the candy in years, a nostalgic smile tugged at my mouth, and I chuckled before tucking the box into my bag.

Lunchtime drew near, so I wandered around the corner to the Derry Scoop in search of a meal. I heard they expanded their venue to two storefronts, and thus expanded their menu to breakfast and lunch, not just cold treats and snacks. After downing a grilled cheese sandwich and fries, the owner pitched half off their small ice cream cones. I walked out pleasantly full, licking my way around vanilla and peach swirl soft serve, my fingers holding the cone tightly as I zipped across the street between midday drivers. It was time to sit down, finish my cone, people watch and enjoy the beautiful weather.

The nearest park was just down the street from the Scoop, its bandshell at the far corner, surrounded by children on lunch break. The tiny wooden gazebo was taken by an older couple reading to one another, so I made way to an open picnic table. As I sat down, I finished my cone, crunching and cringing from a minor case of brain freeze. Wiping my hands on my pant legs, I grabbed my back, pulling out a paperback and the spoils from my walk during the morning.

I’d leaned down to slip my bag under the bench and just as I sat up a strong breeze whipped by, blowing the boat right off the table and towards the other side of the park. I stood up for a moment, then sat down dejectedly. I half pouted, then chided myself. ‘It’s just a paper boat. If you wanted another one, you could make one yourself.’

After reading a few chapters of another librarian’s recommendation for a romance novel, I pitched the book, followed by the box of candy hearts back into my bag, pulling out a thin blanket. Making my way to a sunnier spot in the middle of the grass, I fanned the blanket out over the ground, dropped my bag down and proceeded to lay back and watch the skies.

“Perfect day, isn’t it,” I heard a man’s voice to my left. It was unique and sort of warbly.

“It is,” I said, my head tilting left to see who I was talking to. He must’ve seen the shock on my face, as he responded back right away.

He was dressed like a clown, but like none I’d ever seen before. Silver with pops of red to go with his white and red makeup, and hair the color of a raging bonfire. His blue eyes sparkled with interest.

“N-no, don’t get up! I was lookin’ to join yah. Cloud watching can be so much fun!”

I had been leaning back on my elbows, preparing to get up when the man, er clown dropped down to his knees, then flat to his back on the grass next to me. He took a deep breath, sighing loudly as he watched the skies, clasping his gloved hands at his waist.

“Sometimes I come out here at night, too. The stars are brilliantly bright from this area of town,” he noted. “But during days like this, ‘specially when puffy clouds are floating by you can lay here all afternoon, watching and looking at the shapes. I’ve seen loads of puppies, cows, even ice cream cones in those clouds,” he giggled, looking over at me.

“Most of them look like fluffy pieces of cotton candy today,” I furrowed my brow. I wasn’t seeing any obvious shapes, though I knew what he was referring to. I remember spending my summers as a child spotting all manner of animals in the clouds near home.

“Cotton candy, do you like the stuff?” he asked.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had any, but sure,” I nodded. “Last time I had one was at a carnival near family, years ago.”

“We have a carnival every year in the summertime. Lots of cotton candy. Also popcorn. Do you like popcorn?”

“Who doesn’t?” I squinted over at him.

“You’d be surprised,” he squinted back, and we both chuckled lightly. “I love popcorn, all the treats of the carnival and circus. If you’re in town during the summer, you should go.”

“I might just do that,” I smiled.

“And you might just see me there,” he added, starting to get up from the grass. As he dusted the dirt from the back of his costume, I sat up, wondering what he was going to do next.

“I should be going, but it’s been nice meeting you. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon,” he giggled. I could’ve sworn I heard bells jingle as he bounced on his heels.

“Oh! But first, a small token for the day.” He produced a tiny yellow flower and card from behind his back, holding them out to my reaching hand.  
Taking them in my grasp, I took a whiff of the flower and looked at the plain white envelope. I looked up to smile and offer my thanks, but he was gone.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Back so soon? I thought it was your day off,” one of the younger librarians remarked. She didn’t even look up from reading her book as I walked by, heading up to the attic space where my archival work laid out in dozens of neat piles around several tables.

Placing the flower and card that the kind, albeit unusual stranger gave me on the main table, I fished out the box of candy hearts and an old history book that piqued my interest a week or so ago.

Sitting down and opening the card, I smirked as it bore an intricate illustration of a clown from the head up. Him. Old timey script framed his hair, noting his name, ‘Derry Canal Days’ and ‘Happy Valentines Day’ in red cursive writing.

Opening the history book to a page I marked with a makeshift bookmark, I flipped a few pages backwards, letting realization dawn on me.

Huh. Pennywise the Clown. Must be a family thing, since the photograph lying before me was over a century old. My eyes scanned the scene – an Easter morning before one of Derry’s classic tragic mishaps. A large wagon emblazoned with his name and likeness was surrounded by dozens of Easter Egg hunt participants.

“Poor souls,” I muttered, knowing the fate that befell them later that morning. Opening up the box of candy, I poured out a half dozen hearts, palming them to read each one carefully.

FLOT W ME  
HUG ME  
U R CUTE  
PLAY W ME  
C U LATR  
PENY WISE

‘He must be a popular guy around here,’ I thought as I popped a heart bearing his name into my mouth. Oddly enough, it tasted like cotton candy.

I looked back to the card I tucked into the page of the Easter Egg tragedy, a feeling prickling sensation at the back of my neck as I stared at it. Pulling it from the book, I noticed it had a scrawling of words on the back. Flipping it over, I could barely read it under low lighting, so I moved a desk lamp over from the other side of the table, letting the soft yellow light pour through the card.

The sewer’s all mine  
I make you all float  
But before I dine  
You want back your boat?

I had to suppress a little shiver at the dark content of the poem. What did it mean? Maybe it was his attempt at humor. As I placed the card down on the table, I noticed a pointed piece of paper poking out of the book in a section I hadn’t read through yet. Tugging at it gently, my eyes widened as I pulled the little pink origami boat from between the pages. 

“I thought I’d lost you,” I whispered hoarsely, turning it over in my hands. This was all too strange, almost too coincidental. Never one to resist uncovering a mystery, I was going to have to dig into this, along with my weekend work.

Just down the stairs. a maniacal laugh echoed. Someone was eagerly awaiting our next encounter.


End file.
